*kinda lost on what the better title is. Wrote this for fun…

I spill thoughts like blood upon a floor after a murder.

I hold my pen like a weapon,

drawn quick like a gunslinger.

Taking aim in any form of words that spill over my tongue,

squeezed between my lips,

and breathes upon each page a life of its own…

I spill thoughts like an oil spill in the ocean.

I hold my pen tight, afraid to let go,

like a child afraid of a dark room.

My words are thick, salacious at times but surely a talisman

’cause what I know is all I speak of

and that which I don’t I dare not malign.

I spill thoughts like it’s all I have left.

Counting syllables,

perfecting my craft.

Rearranging words untill I’m satisfied with what I have,

written with velleity to be more than just a writer.

I wanna be a poet.

A scholar among most.

Famous,

and well-known.

Wealthy is fine but I’d rather decline your offer,

cause if my thoughts spill any further I may lose myself in greed…

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